


i hold it there in my hands

by refectory



Series: domestic andreil compilation [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew Can't Cook That's A Hill I Will Die On, Andrew has graduated - Neil has not, Can You Believe They're In Love?, Domestic Fluff, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Neil Josten loves Andrew Minyard, Post-Canon, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 02:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/refectory/pseuds/refectory
Summary: “You are not nearly as cute as you think you are.”"Pretty sure I’m as cute asyouthink I am.”





	i hold it there in my hands

**Author's Note:**

> Like a snake, my heart  
> has shed its skin.  
> I hold it there in my hand,  
> full of honey and wounds.

The trick to loving right Andrew Minyard is, surprisingly enough, expectation.

Andrew has an ego that demands he stay one step ahead of the competition, but that’s for threats. When you’re on the correct side of him, he craves to be anticipated. Andrew makes it embarrassingly easy. After a childhood being overlooked — or worse, noticed for all the wrong reasons — Andrew kind of… _crumbles_ when another person sees him. It’s how Renee secured him as her best friend without a deal. It’s how Matt inducted himself into the Monsters in his senior year.

It’s how Neil is sitting cross-legged on a pretentious marble counter-top, eating crunchy peanut butter from the jar.

Andrew is facing the stove tops, his strong back covered by a typical black shirt. Every time he moves Neil can just about taste it. He might as well be shirtless for all the good the useless fabric is doing for his modesty.

Okay. Neil needs to not think about that.

Andrew purposely bangs his spatula against the side of the saucepan, fed-up. “Don’t you have anything better to do?"

The idea of Andrew feeling Neil’s gaze is almost embarrassing, just not enough for Neil to look away. “I don’t have eidetic memory; I need to take the time to memorize you.”

“You did that enough during college.”

“You look different from then,” Neil protests. Andrew is broader, thicker in his arms and stomach and thighs. His hair is longer, the scowl lines around his mouth less pronounced. Neil doesn’t love Andrew any less now than when he regularly pulled knives on their teammates, but he can’t deny a certain fondness for an Andrew who lets himself smile when he texts Bee about Halloween costumes.

Andrew doesn’t deny it. Neil smiles around his spoon. “What are you making?”

“Sandwich.”

“Why are you frying it?”

“Nicer this way.”

He flips the sandwich. Something sizzles. Neil doesn’t think it is oil. The smell is — putrid.

And familiar.

Neil’s stomach turns at the same time he realizes what that smell is. “Fuck. Are you eating that stupid maple syrup and cream cheese toastie garbage?”

Andrew throws him a flat look over his shoulder. “Why do you sound offended. I am not making _you_ eat it.”

The ‘stupid maple syrup and cream cheese toastie garbage’ is a Andrew Minyard special. He puts maple syrup in a pan, brings it to a spitting boil, and fries a cream cheese sandwich in it. The first time he made it, he happened to do so in front of Kevin. Kevin dry-retched so bad he ended up crying.

Allison had it on camera.

“Andrew,” Neil starts, incredulous. “There’s no way your nutritionist approved that!”

The blond shrugs. “I’m hungry.”

“Oh my god.”

“Shut up and eat your peanut butter, hypocrite.” He slides the toasted sandwich out of the pan and pulls it apart into skinny little pieces without waiting for it to cool down. It clearly hurts. Andrew doesn’t stop doing it, because he _is_ as stupid as the people he surrounds himself with.

Neil’s stomach shrivels up and dies when Andrew meets his eyes and takes a pointed bite. He chucks his spoon into the sink and declares: “I’ve lost my appetite.”

Andrew points at him with two fingers, directing Neil to look at the lounge set-up behind him. “That is your problem, Neil. Go into the other room and eat alone if you must.”

“You’re going to have a heart attack.”

“And that would be my problem to deal with. See how this works?”

Andrew eats slowly deliberately these days, mostly to prove he doesn’t have to choke down whatever is put in front of him before it’s taken away. Neil resents the practice for the first time in months. “We’re going grocery shopping when you get back from practice tomorrow,” Neil decides. “You know, I don’t want to be eating peanut butter out of the jar, but your cupboards are bare. How do you live like this?”

Andrew freezes mid-chew. His eyes narrow subtly. To anyone else it would be a warning. Neil recognizes the expression as exasperated.

“Neil,” Andrew starts.

 _Oh no,_ thinks Neil.

“You were arrested last month because an officer thought you were homeless and sleeping on a park bench. However bad you think I am, I can guarantee you are exceedingly worse.”

That _had_ happened. Neil was tired after his run, saw a park bench, and decided to rest his eyes. The next time he woke up, a concerned mother was watching him, clinging to her child, hiding behind a police officer who genuinely did try to arrest Neil. Ironically, it was a first for Neil, who’s been homeless plenty of times before and got away with it, but actually wasn’t the one time he was caught.

“At least I have food in my fridge.”

“Take-away,”

“I have other things.”

“An unnecessary amount of fruit.”

“I _eat it_ ,” says Neil defensively. Andrew looks at him like Neil admitted to murder. Except not at all, because if that were the case he’d be marginally more turned on. “We’re going, Andrew. It'll be good for us, and I'm not eating peanut butter for the rest of my vacation. Abby would drive over specifically to kick your ass.”

“Ha-ha,” Andrew replies, emotionless. “What would I do with groceries.”

“Cook them. I think.”

“You think.”

“Shut up. This isn’t a discussion. Wal-Mart, tomorrow, get excited about it.”

Andrew, finished with his unholy meal, sets his empty plate in the sink and slinks forward. He puts his hands on Neil’s thighs and lightly traces them down until they catch in the crease of his knees. One quick tug unfolds Neil’s legs, allowing Andrew to slide in close. Andrew tips his head back. His nose barely brushes Neil’s chin.

Neil bites on his bottom lip to smother his smile. Andrew looks very comfortable having Neil an extra couple inches above him; it’s amusing because he frankly cannot be as happy about the new height difference as he’s pretending. He’s angling for something. Neil doesn’t care what: he’ll play along if it keeps Andrew right where he is.

It is nice having the bed to himself, sure, but Neil notices Andrew’s absence like a missing limb. It aches all the time. He gets phantom pains everywhere. He turns around at practice to meet eyes that are not there; twists around in bed searching for his warmth; at one point Neil bought a pint of ice cream just to fill the empty space in their freezer. Nicky assures him it will ease, that sometimes he will forget he needs Andrew around constantly. It hasn’t happened yet, that brief stretch of time when Neil doesn't miss him. Neil’s nervous for when it will hit. If it ever does. Even if it didn't seem unfair to Andrew not to want him twenty-four seven, Neil just isn't sure he is capable of being completely happy with this distance between them.

Like Andrew can hear his thoughts, he tips forward and presses his mouth to Neil’s neck. Resting there. Staying close. His lips barely move when he says, “Your heart is racing.”

Neil closes his eyes. He catches Andrew’s wandering hands and tangles their fingers together. He can’t imagine letting go for anything.

“Andrew,”

“Mm?”

“Andrew. Look at me?”

With a begrudging sigh, Andrew pulls back. He freezes when Neil catches his face and smacks a sloppy kiss to his nose. Neil feels Andrew’s cheeks start burning hotter, experiences his own heart swell twice its usual size.

Andrew’s eyes go wide and exceptionally golden when he’s happy.

Neil does it again and again and again. He kisses Andrew’s chin, cheekbones, both eyelids, along his jawline. He punctuates his journey with a final press to Andrew’s forehead, drawing back with a grin so wide it hurts old scars. Andrew huffs impatiently, pushing up onto the tip of his toes. Neil allows their noses to brush, then leans away.

“I’m not kissing you properly, not when you just ate that shitty toasted sandwich.”

Andrew stares at him. He covers Neil’s hands, gently framing his neck, with his own. He guides them down to lay flat on the counter. They stay there.

“I am not going to Wal-Mart.”

“Okay. Walgreens?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

Andrew glares. Instead of repeating himself, he says, “I’m going to call Nicky.”

Even though Nicky would be thrilled, Neil feels obliged to step in. “He’s going to notice you’re all…” Neil doesn’t know how to say ‘spoiling for a blow job’ without triggering Andrew’s pettiness and getting himself quarantined to his own side of the bed. At a loss for words, he gestures at Andrew expressively, which seems to communicate his point. Andrew pinches his thigh, unimpressed. “What?”

“You are not nearly as cute as you think you are.”

“Pretty sure I’m as cute as you think I am.”

Andrew looks prepared to walk out of the apartment altogether. “One day, you’ll learn to stop talking,” He says wistfully. Two fingers press down on Neil’s lips on the edge of too rough. Andrew strides into his bedroom, the door hanging open behind him. Neil hears the tingy sound of a Skype call ringing out, followed by the pop of an answered call.

Seconds later, Renee’s warm voice is saying, “Oh! Hello, Andrew. This is a surprise. Is Neil there?”

Andrew doesn’t answer. Renee explains without being asked: “You get a certain look on your face when—”

“This was a mistake,” says Andrew, and Neil guesses the only thing that keeps him from hanging up is Renee’s sudden cresting laughter. She continues unhindered, “No, no, I was just kidding. It really is nice to see you! Neil? Neil, _are_ you there?”

“Hi, Renee.”

“Hello! It must be nice for you to two to be together again. Well, what are you doing, Andrew? How is your practice going?”

Andrew proceeds to talk to her in a near whisper. Neil lets his rising and falling murmur slow his heart rate down. Once the giddiness leaves his head, Neil finds his feet again. He cleans up the kitchen so Andrew won’t need to do it later, then starts his hunt for a scrap of paper and pen.

It was time to draft his first ever shopping list.

**Author's Note:**

> They're... married as hell...


End file.
